All The Things
by Andra Sashner
Summary: Drabble series: Fast forward "The Taming of the April Fool" Shizuka and Kimihiro find their way around & with each other. Everything is new, upside down, crazy & just perfect... but romance is an ever-learning process. WARNING: HOMOSEXUALITY
1. All The Things

_**All the things  
**__29__th__ April 2008  
__**Series:**__ The Taming of the April Fool  
__**Summary:**__ Shizuka reflects on the good things loving Watanuki brings.  
__**Warnings:**__ Ficlet... which some people call drabbles. A fast-forward to how things will be later in the Taming arc. This_

_

* * *

_Shizuka liked to hold hands.

Naturally, Kimihiro refused, "How often do you see young men walking around this city holding hands?!" the Seer demanded. "People will stare! Do you have any idea how scandalous it is?!"

Shizuka would shrug and grunt in acknowledgement, "Hn." Not holding hands wasn't really too big of a deal.

Shizuka liked to touch.

Of course, Kimihiro disagreed. "My sleeve, my arm, my elbow, my shoulder!" the high-strung teen would complain. "Next you'll work your way down my legs, too!"

"I did already work my way _up_…" Shizuka murmured thoughtfully, eyes appraising said appendages.

Instantly Kimihiro blushed furiously. He growled intelligibly, waved his arms a little and stomped his foot before giving a frustrated huff and turning away to dash off to class. They were at school and there was ten more minutes until the morning final bell. But not having any reason to stand by himself, the monk followed, walking slowly, enjoying mental playbacks of his boyfriend's reaction.

Shizuka liked to kiss.

And Kimihiro declared, with fire in his eyes and both fists and jaws clenched, in his most under-no-circumstances tone of voice that there would be no kissing where people could see.

So the monk kissed him the back row of the dark theatre. He dragged Kimihiro down the hall from their classroom and up a flight of stairs to the stationery supplies room where no one went during recess or lunchtime and kissed Kimihiro there. He lured Kimihiro up to the roof, walked his boyfriend around toward the rear wall of the roof stairwell then pinned Kimihiro against the cool concrete, using every trick he'd learned and hitting all Kimihiro's weaknesses and made out with the Seer there too.

When Kimihiro protested he logically stated, "Even if we're out in public, as long as no one sees then it's alright. No witness to our scandalous behaviour." Then he bent his head and picked up right where he'd left off… and his boyfriend had forgotten about the protest by the time he lifted his head.

Doumeki liked to _taste_, too.

Not just Kimihiro's cooking either, as he'd had to explain when the naïve little fool replied by complaining about again expecting to have to cook more out-of-season lunch requests. There was this blessed, brief, blank look in Kimihiro's eyes as he sat quite still with one hand holding his chopsticks and the other his own lunch. Then in the next moment, understanding dawned and Kimihiro blushed right to the tips of his unruly ebony hair.

"You say the most outrageous things!" came the hissed announcement, accompanied by waving chopsticks. "You probably think up these things for the sole purpose of stressing me out and making me blush!"

"When you're stressed, your eyes positively spark," Shizuka commented idly. It was true; his boyfriend was always a sight to behold when riled.

Kimihiro glared, "I knew it!" He put down his lunch and chopsticks to flail a little before he plunked one hand down on the ground between them and leaned over to wave a finger under the monk's nose, "Do you know you could be giving me high blood pressure?! Have you any idea how bad for the body that is? How unhealthy it is to be angry all the time?!"

"You're not angry all the time," Shizuka said calmly, watching the fireworks. He knew Kimihiro behaved like he was but they both knew…

"Yes I am!" the Seer argued. "All I have to do is _look_ at you and I swear you piss me off!"

Shizuka shrugged, put his bento box aside as well and leaned over, "I suppose I'll have to distract you." One corner of his lips hitched upward in amusement, "For health reasons of course."

"There is nothing on the face of this planet that you can do to— _What_ do you _think_ you're doing?!" Shizuka had pushed Kimihiro over backward, hand catching at the back of the Seer's head to cushion his fall. Despite the flailing Shizuka caught his hands and pinned them to the floor to either side of Kimihiro's head then leaned down. "You and your logic! I swear this is another of your ways to drive me--"

Shizuka liked making Kimihiro shut up, too. And this was his favourite way.

It involved hand-holding, touching, kissing _and _tasting.

_Fin._


	2. Waiting

_**Waiting  
**__10__th__ May 2008  
__**Series:**__ The Taming of the April Fool  
__**Summary:**__ Shizuka isn't the only one watching, waiting.  
__**Warnings:**__ Ficlet without dialogue. Commonly known as a drabble._

* * *

"I was waiting for you," Shizuka had replied that first night when he'd been asked to accompany Watanuki to Kunogi's friend's school. Watanuki had been impatient with Yuuko via that amusing headset, and had charged at the school yelling at him to hurry his ass up.

That was the beginning.

Shizuka quickly learned to understand what kind of prize Watanuki was, what made this normally quiet boy so passionate and determined and made him so precious. There had only ever been one other person in all of Shizuka's world who had been as focused, as rigidly ruled by Right and Wrong, only one other person who had stood by even the simplest things by the same principle as he stood by the fundamental.

This boy, the monk realised, was a better man than him in some ways.

And Shizuka learned he liked to watch him, if only to observe the startling contrast of what made Watanuki so dear against his frustrating naïveté. He watched and waited.

Waited to walk Watanuki home, waited to see what Watanuki would See next, waited when Watanuki disappeared under suspect Hydrangea trees. Waited when he knew what Watanuki would do next, waited to stop the young man from himself, and waited, waited, waited…

Slowly his waiting began to mean something else, his watching took on a new quality, and his protectiveness turned personal. And always he waited, following, and constantly seeing Watanuki's back. Sometimes he walked ahead, so tired he would get of seeing Watanuki walk ahead of him.

But they became his words, his way of saying what he felt, "I was waiting for you."

He accepted the flailing, tempers and the silliness, the declarations of slander against his character accompanied by a shade of insincerity in Watanuki's eyes. It took misadventure after misadventure, always just managing to arrive in the nick of time, heart beating in his throat and _Please not today, let today not be the day, just let that day never come where I'm too late!_ Shooting his arrow, but still seeing Watanuki pale and bruised, coughing or even sometimes already unconscious.

It took seeing to Watanuki's welfare when he couldn't care for himself, watching over him while he slept because in this vulnerable state, Shizuka didn't trust paper charms to keep him safe. It took bleeding but being glad it wasn't Watanuki bleeding, and not stepping but jumping in when it got dangerous because really, Shizuka was bigger and tougher, could physically handle these things better…

It took time; a lot of it.

But Watanuki gentled more and more every time, every incident. He'd throw a tantrum to shame the last one but he made the lunches anyway, made the snacks and fussed. He took a little better care, went quiet a little more often when he watched Shizuka watch him, and made the demands that _you Doumeki_ never do it again with eyes glazed with pain and tone underscored with fear.

Until finally there was an eye.

An eye given for his, the pale of its iris making him ache, the bandage a painful reminder.

He didn't find the solution quickly enough, and Watanuki had gone somewhere he couldn't follow, where he wasn't strong enough to protect the Seer.

At home, sitting looking out at the temple grounds, he sat and waited some more thinking back to what Watanuki had muttered at his own reflection, the words which had made Shizuka's heart clench. Yuuko had gone to wait at her own shop, saying something about him not being the only one waiting and she had to keep the other occupied. He'd pressed his lips together in irritation and he would be fine, she told him, waiting alone, _because Doumeki-kun has had so much practice!_

He hated being alone now, when waiting usually had not meant waiting somewhere quite as away from whom he waited for. But there was the eye.

Watanuki was waiting for him at the shrine gates the morning after. And now, they walked together, side by side. Shizuka looked over, saw the eye that wasn't quite that matching shade of blue and thought, _mine_.

_Mine._

After that day, he couldn't stop looking. He'd get caught sometimes, Watanuki glaring, daring him to say anything. He would stare right back, look into both eyes, watch that mouth twist in a little frown, uncertainty marring the Seer's brow. He'd study that pale skin, those clever hands, his own temple would throb a little at that scar down Watanuki's palm as always, but they walked side by side and he would think, _please_.

_Please._

Sometimes as they walked, he'd notice Watanuki watch him, too. His brows were often drawn together, eyes puzzled and wondering… and sometimes quietly assessing. Shizuka wouldn't watch the Seer then, he'd do what he'd always done.

He'd wait.

He was still waiting.

But when it came, when that pivotal moment arrived, it would be multiples over getting to walk beside Watanuki after almost a year of seeing his back; it would mean that was that, the final moment –the end.

Because the Seer fought tooth and nail for everything he cared about… and just as ferociously guarded the soul of his heart. And there waited a prize greater than anything Shizuka could have ever hoped for… a prize that had been waiting longer than he had desired it.

Then, only then, he knew there would be no more waiting.

Not for either of them, and not ever again.

_Fin._


	3. Balanced

_**Balanced  
**__12__th__ July 2008  
__**Series:**__ All The Things  
__**Summary:**__ Watanuki wonders how they will ever get away.  
__**Warnings:**__ Fluff.__  
_

* * *

Shizuka is the sun.

Kimihiro didn't like the thought but it's what he thought and he accepted it. He didn't feel as though thoughts needed justification, they were only in his head. And this particular thought was as honest as all his others.

His eye, Kimihiro had thought, when the Spider Queen had devoured it, had looked like a miniature moon. And Shizuka's had looked like a tiny sun. The contrast and balance of it had struck Kimihiro and refused to leave him alone.

"Oi."

"Do you not have the decency to call me by my own name?" Kimihiro snapped. He turned toward Shizuka from where he walked beside the monk and shook his fist.

"You don't call me by my name very often either," the monk pointed out.

"I do too!" Kimihiro sneered, "Shizuka."

Eyes shifting back to looking ahead, Shizuka only said, "I don't want to say your name the way you did mine."

"So you don't say it at all?!" Kimihiro demanded. Then the words seemed to mean something else and he quickly decided this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have so he said, "You're so stubborn."

The words didn't have the same acidity to it and the lout by his side noticed because his gaze slipped sidelong over Kimihiro and Kimihiro could _feel_ it. He could feel it more and more often these days, sort of knew what it meant but didn't want to say. Even if really, Shizuka gave so much and Kimihiro… didn't know how.

It always seemed easier to be nice to and care for people who had clearer and less personal wants.

Finally and very softly, without looking at Shizuka, he asked, "How would you say my name, then?"

"With the ways I feel," Shizuka replied easily, tone so flat that to any one else it would be impossible to distinguish the gentle underscore it held. But for Kimihiro…

And Kimihiro knew how Shizuka felt about him, knew that the monk knew how he, in turn, felt. It wasn't too easy to disguise when he would look at Shizuka, feel things clogging up his throat and tightening in his chest, and Shizuka would turn and catch him staring and, worse, _see_ all the things in his eyes before he could turn away.

It wasn't difficult to miss either, when he would feel Shizuka's stare and turn, and see all those same things in those golden eyes. But by contrast, Shizuka would wait and watch, not the least bit embarrassed by the manner with which he stared.

Watanuki would look away first then, too.

Mostly, it was undeniable considering the other very intimate activities they occasionally engaged in. Where they exchanged very special words Watanuki could never say anywhere else except then Shizuka had beaten his guard down and there was nothing to do but surrender.

He didn't say things the say way Shizuka did… but he still… he still felt the same way. And sometimes when the walls around him weren't down but certainly crumbling, he couldn't put those things, the emotions that stopped his throat and made it so hard to be away from Shizuka's side into words… but sometimes the words did come. Or, as it were, the word.

"Shizuka." And Watanuki was almost embarrassed by the way he said it. Softly and almost breathless, barely able to carry the weight of the longing, fear, happiness, and surprise all rolled into it; the love.

"Kimihiro."

He shuddered. Names should not be spoken that way, should not elicit the response it did when it was. He shouldn't feel like the syllables were each another lasso, another tie, that bound him all the closer to his love. It shouldn't make him want to hear it again yet fear it, shouldn't make him want it whispered closer to his ear away from the open air where someone else might catch it.

He wondered if this was how Shizuka felt when he said the monk's name.

Because if he did, then how would they ever escape?

"We don't," came the quiet murmur from beside him.

Watanuki turned to stare.

"We don't ever escape," Shizuka said. He still looked straight ahead, his tone implying it would be the most natural thing in the world to remain together.

It didn't matter, Watanuki thought almost hysterically, if the things between them were so crazy and perfect that he could never get used to them. He'd have his whole life ahead of him to enjoy it; his light, this love, this balance.

_Fin._


	4. Belongs

_**Belongs  
**__12__th__ July 2008  
__**Series:**__ All The Things  
__**Summary:**__ Perfect just where they are.  
__**Warnings:**__ Explicit intimacy and an unhealthy amount of fluff. And shaky tenses; there was no other way to express the thoughts._

_Thanks to **Krystal Klear**, **A.B**, **iloveatem**, **GoddesOfWrath**, and **professorkatze**.  
**AND CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHY THERE ARE CLEAR OVER A HUNDRED HITS ON THE LAST CHAPTER BUT NO REVIEWS?!**_

* * *

A slow and lazy slide of Doumeki's fingertips over his ankle, the other hand skimming knuckles over the shin of his other leg, and a warm breath gusting over the skin on the inside of his knee…

There was intent in that breath, a desire to touch and feel, yearning thrumming in every caress… It made him tremble. But that was nothing when those lips parted followed by a long, snaking lick of tongue up his inner thigh. Suddenly the tendrils of fire and tension darting along his flesh, radiating outward from point of contact, went and slipped into his bones and skipped up his spine making him arch,

"Ahh…" So good. _Sublime._

Those large hands move higher, touching, feeling, reshaping to his flesh as though unwilling to truly grasp him. There was reverence in the movements, a deep appreciation for what was happening. It made him blush.

How dare this oaf treat him so carefully?!

But it was too good. Too fine.

The hands curved around and underneath, Doumeki carefully cupping and lifting his legs apart at the knee, warm body settling between. That tongue, that clever tongue, refused to part from his skin. The monk's breaths panted over his thigh, the heat a startling contrast to the cool air.

He began to perspire. The tension, the delicious anticipation, the pounding in his ears by his heart… it was so much and not enough.

Those hands slipped up higher, pushing a little more at the _gi_ he wore, moving the heavy fabric up and up and—

The chill of the air struck his skin. Bare. So bare beneath the clothing and now bared before Doumeki, the _gi_ riding up his torso and he was _bare_ from the waist down. Embarrassing; he thought it would be embarrassing but all he can think is, _Don't stop._

Those hands skimmed upward still cupping, still lifting, higher until they reach and curl at his hipbones, fingers slipping beneath him to lift his hips up. Doumeki's forearms are under him now, upper arms pushing him to curl upward, knees rising into the air as though folding him in half. And that stupid bastard is bending over him, mouth still on his skin having slipped _downward_ to Kimihiro's knee…

_Come back up_.

Doumeki met and locked with his gaze. Watching him, the monk opened his mouth and breathed his way down Kimihiro's raised leg, hands lifting his hips a little more and all the Seer can think is that he's being lifted toward that mouth…

"Argh!" The sensation is no less sharp and heavy, no less sweet, despite watching it happen. Doumeki's mouth on his hardness, caressing it and tasting… _tasting…_

Kimihiro can barely stand it, flinging his arms out to either side and gripping the bed sheets, arching but gaining no height because it is into Doumeki's hands he arches and there's no where else to go being half lifted off the mattress like this.

Again and again, that hot tongue laves him. Again and again the pulses of heavy heat beat upward from where Doumeki lavishes his flesh with attention. It builds and builds, Kimihiro unable to contain it, whimpering and crying…

And they are still watching each other.

"Dou…" He licks dry lips and tries again, "Dou… meki…" He groans when that mouth disconnects from him, when the monk lifts his head and hoarsely corrects,

"It's Shizuka."

Kimihiro can't argue, doesn't care to argue, he's wanted to call Shizuka by his first name in a long while. "Don't stop," he begs. "Don't leave me…"

"I'd have to be dragged away from you," Shizuka promises, head bending.

The movement is accompanied by more lifting, more adjusting and finally when Kimihiro feels Shizuka's mouth on him again, it's very near where it was earlier but now is also quite _somewhere else_.

"Hugn!!" Kimihiro can't stand it. _Mouths don't go there_, his mind tells him but there's no way he can act on that thought because right then he can feel Shizuka's tongue _enter him._ He cries out, hands scrabbling, body tensely poised to savour each movement, each thrust.

_More._

Again and again, deeper each time, delivering sensation so sharp that Kimihiro has covered his mouth with both hands to keep from screaming.

He whimpers a protest when the blindingly sweet torture ends and he's lowered, but moans again when a finger dips into him tentatively.

_Yes._

Carefully, a little deeper each time, the finger slips into him. It's easy, it's just a finger. The skin is so sensitised and relaxed by now that it's impossible not to feel a rush of heat at the entry, an anticipative reaction of what he knows is going to come.

The sensations do nothing but add to his teeth-aching tension, when one finger slips out and two push in. Shizuka is good at this, Kimihiro knows, better than he should be, in fact. But he revels in it, because the monk is doing it to him; has only ever done this to him.

The other hand comes into play, another index finger and another middle finger, both just as carefully introduced. Both hands are busy at preparing him, two hands pulling him open, carefully stretching him apart, gently trying to stretch the snug opening wider.

Shizuka isn't modestly built.

"Now," Kimihiro manages to say. "I want you… _now…_"

And Shizuka leans up, arms hooking under Kimihiro's knees to lift the Seer higher as he leans forward, carefully lining himself up.

"Please," Kimihiro begs.

"I love you," the archer murmurs, leaning a little more and now Kimihiro can feel that blunt hardness poised to invade--

He hisses as Shizuka slides the head in. The head is always in one go, the rest go slowly. It's like being opened up all over again from there and Kimihiro groans at the pleasure. Slowly, gently, in increments, bit by bit, further and further until the depth is at where Shizuka's fingers couldn't reach. He wants to move though he knows he must remain relaxed for this process. He wants the movement, the thrusting and the delicious tension, the sublime pleasure flooding his body.

He wants Shizuka to make love to him.

Kimihiro finally releases the sheets, reaching to clench his hands over Shizuka's shoulder. They're One now. The monk is inside him, fully sheathed and Kimihiro wants-- he pulls Shizuka down, and their lips meet in a searing kiss.

Kimihiro is panting but so is his lover. He leans into the kisses, angles his head and receives each plunder, Shizuka slanting his mouth to deepen it a little more each time. They move against each other in kissing, their bodies following. Until there is that first nudge, the beginning of movement, and Kimihiro moans…

"You make the most amazing sounds," Shizuka whispers to him.

"Bastard!" the Seer hissed, arms curling around his lover's shoulders to pull him a little lower, a little closer. "Move!"

"Not yet," came the immediate reply.

And all through Kimihiro's demanding moans, movements and semi-mindless insistence, Shizuka only rocks. Back and forth slowly but each movement is a little longer, a little further back and a little further in.

It builds and builds and finally there is a single perfect thrust, hitting that wonderful point inside that makes Kimihiro's vision grey a little and sends a lightning bolt through him. He holds his lover closer as he cries out.

It has begun.

Kimihiro lifts his legs and curls them at each side of Shizuka's ribs, pinning the archer between them but still unable to do more than receive each thrust because the monk is still bracing with both Kimihiro's legs over his arms. It's beautiful, each plunge. It's magnificent because it's Them, it's Shizuka making love to him, eyes shining with it. And Kimihiro knows he cannot hide his own, the feelings in his heart.

Together they move, Kimihiro breathless, completely unable to speak a word and still Shizuka manages to say on a deeply hoarse moan, "I love you…"

Together.

They seem to have a habit of coming together. Kimihiro feels he can understand. They watch each other so carefully throughout this beautiful unity that when the wicked coil of tension begins to fray then snaps… it's really the same coil between them.

He almost screams. As it is, he gave a husky shout and Shizuka's soul-wrenching groan echoes in his ears. He tightened his grip and feels the answering tightening of Shizuka's hold on him. It's impossible now to tell where one ends and the other begins, riding a high so transcendent that perhaps there is no need to distinguish at all, really.

Collapsing into a messy pile, Kimihiro reached with both hands to turn Shizuka's head, which had fallen to rest near his shoulder, a little on his chest. He angled it, turned it, and lifted his own head to bring his mouth closer for a kiss. It's wet and sloppy, they're both still panting, but its still amazing and feels like they've exchanged souls somewhere and there is no way they can ever be apart.

"I love you, too," he whispered, letting his head fall back. He's exhausted but pleased. Sated, of course, but he knows that the next time they get a little too close again… this is all going to repeat itself.

He supposes they could live in a bed and they might not ever need to leave it but to eat and visit the baths. The thought makes him smile.

"What's so funny?" Shizuka rumbled into his shoulder, lazily slipping fingertips over Kimihiro's stomach.

"I was just fantasizing about a world where you don't piss me off and I don't want to kill you half the time I'm in your presence."

"Sounds like a nice world," the monk commented calmly, idly nuzzling his cheek against Kimhiro's skin.

The familiar throb at his temple is not so insistent but nevertheless, Kimihiro found himself unable to say anything except, "Well forget it because it would _never _happen." He snorted, "_This_ world is about as good as it gets where I only want to kill you _half _the time instead of _all_ the time, and we actually even have intimacy."

"Hm," Shizuka murmured, turning his head and getting more comfortable. "You're right. This is perfect as it is."

Kimihiro is dazed with pleasure at those words until he realises something about the way his lover is lying on him. "You--" Kimihiro hoped he was wrong because otherwise he'd rapidly be slipping to that half he was just talking about, "You better not be using me as a pillow, you overgrown-- Oi!"

He huffed as he shoved at one of the lout's shoulders.

No effect.

"You bastard!" Kimihiro hissed. "You _are_ using me as a pillow!"

Looking far too placidly pleased, Shizuka slipped into slumber, a content half smile upon his lips.

_Fin._


	5. That Last Hurdle

_**That Last Hurdle  
Series:**__ PG; All the Things (drabble series)  
__**Summary:**__ Shizuka ponders the facets of Watanuki, thinking back on when he had seen Watanuki talk to himself about dying alone.  
__**Warnings:**__ References to a possible pairing._

* * *

It didn't take a genius to figure out why Watanuki got so defensive when anyone looked at him.

No matter what, even he couldn't be used to being stared at –and ignored—when he'd flail and curse on the street, attacked by things only he could see. It was easier for him to make a lot of noise all the time because then, despite how embarrassing it really all was, it was a heck of a lot better than people staring and wondering. Or worse, _pitying_. This way, they just shook their heads or rolled their eyes. And looked _away_.

It also didn't take a genius to figure out why Watanuki didn't like it when people stayed near him.

People usually avoided spending too much time with him. He was always polite; very well mannered. But the regular and seemingly over-spastic fits in such a quiet society like Japan stood out where most common people did their best to blend in and be accepted. Watanuki neither fit in nor seemed to desire to –or so they thought—and that kind of put a damper on things. Watanuki simply got accustomed to people staying away and far away… unless they wanted something.

Suspicion made Watanuki guarded.

But this and the lucky side-effect of being able to tell when people were lying to him, no black smoke whispering from their lips as they spoke, made him able to recognise when someone genuinely needed help. And his well-protected heart --too big to be contained, really-- would exercise its capacity.

Usually after a thank you and a puzzled look, the person Watanuki had extended his bottomless kindness to would eventually go back to distancing themselves from 'that strange boy.' There were two categories of these people: the ones who immediately and very conveniently forgot he existed and went right back to their superficial friends, or the ones who were moved by him and declared him their new-found best friend. The latter kind did Watanuki the most damage. They would appreciate the gesture Watanuki had made in their time of need when those they called friends had not… but eventually be convinced away either at the first hint of whispers behind their backs or Watanuki's first spazz. Whichever came first.

Now if all that didn't already add up to screwing with poor Watanuki's head, he had also grown up alone and was therefore painfully shy.

He didn't know how to approach his peers nor had he ever known how to make acceptable come backs or keep up with the latest gossip. He couldn't go out and couldn't give a reason as to why, and he didn't even own a TV. There was a radio in his kitchen to which he pretended not to hum along to while preparing food, but that was it. He had no practical peer-skills. Oh, he knew the theory. He did, after all, read mind-boggling volumes of books… but then all the other factors came into play.

At some point, Watanuki pretty much left the rest of humanity alone.

The problem was, they'd done the same to him.

Shizuka had been part of that great number of people who had abandoned Watanuki. He hadn't even realised he had until he'd been walking home one relentlessly rainy day, gaze drawn by a familiar uniform standing by the city's central canal. It wasn't until he'd stopped and stared, his brain automatically supplying what it was in the figure's arms and in what _state_ it was, that recognition finally dawned. He had spoken to the lonesome teen a few times, very rare few times where the exchange had been very generic. Usually when Kunogi, herself rather lonesome and perhaps had recognised a similarity to herself, had mentioned that it was their responsibility as class representatives to make sure all the students integrated well into their educational community.

But then Watanuki, ignoring the cold rain and still holding that dead puppy, finally spoke and Shizuka rather thought words like that should never be spoken and that tone of voice shouldn't exist,

"I'll die like this too someday." The flat voice held no real inflection, no emotion. Just a statement of fact the speaker had emotionally realised the truth of long ago and now merely wanted to hear aloud since the old truth finally had coherent words to it. But then the voice shifted, a touch of desolate resignation colouring his tone when he finished, "Alone."

Suddenly, Watanuki had looked inexplicably sad.

Shizuka couldn't see his face. But the sadness had been visible in every line of Watanuki's body. A forlorn, inevitable quality reserved for the poor souls last left behind when everyone they knew and loved had passed on… yet even those old folks at least had a foundation of contentment to hold on to, of a life long lived and lived well.

This speaker now was only his own age, and that sadness was just a dark fact.

Not too long after that day, whenever he'd spy Kunogi chatting with the quiet teen, he'd wander over. In the weeks since The Day in the Rain, Shizuka had slowly noticed how easy it was to overlook Watanuki, how apart he was from the eye-catching crowd. It took him some practice to notice the boy himself.

And he almost immediately wondered how he could have missed Watanuki in the first place.

But then he realised the truths about the teen, one after another in rapid succession. After all, it didn't take a genius. And he spared Kunogi more attention; she obviously had known what she was talking about.

Eventually, Shizuka came to a conclusion –that while all the facts he'd realised did not take much brain power to achieve, there existed another fact: No one looked.

No one cared to look. Not beyond their starring roles in their drama soap opera lives. No one cared, period. Then Shizuka found that he did, in fact, care. After that surprising point came into recognition and he went about doing something about it, it was _without_ surprise that this fact scared the living daylights out of poor Watanuki.

Well, Shizuka thought, Watanuki could be an idiot. But he rather thought this particular gentle soul of an idiot would care to look, see him, and maybe it wouldn't take any genius brain power for Watanuki to figure him out too.

Well, it didn't take long at all.

Now to just get past all that denial…

_Fin._


End file.
